Nise Mira
by Miss Cullen -I wish
Summary: Sequel to Masquerade - After an eventful eight months in Paris Elizabeth is looking forward to relaxing at home and trying to put the whole thing behind her. Fate, however, seems to have other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

**I live! For those of you who missed the announcement, I apologize profusely for how long it's taken to get this thing up and started. Reality and all that, you know.**

**For anyone wondering, the title is the phonetic pronunciation of 偽ミラー which _should_ be Japanese for "False Mirror". My Japanese is terrible so it may be wrong. And, because I'd want to know, it's pronounced Nee-say Me-da.**

* * *

As it always does during Indiana summers, the sun beat down relentlessly and washed over me in an insufferable heat. For the past several years we'd had an Indian summer which prompted me to be a hermit crab and stay inside in the a/c. I couldn't even comfortably lay out in a tank top and shorts; I was too self-conscious of my acne. To help hide it, I never wore anything shorter than a t-shirt and my shorts were always to my knee, which caused me to sweat and break out even more. It was a vicious cycle I did everything in my power to avoid. That said, why the hell was I laying out on the blistering roadside? I vaguely remembered being out taking photos but that seemed so long ago. It would, however, explain why I was wearing jeans in 90 degree weather.

With a groan I struggled up to my feet and brushed the mud and gravel from myself. How long had I been there? And why'd I pass out anyway? Despite my glaring at it, the ground gave me no answers. Sighing, I squinted up the road in an attempt to orient myself. Laying next to the road was a black mass, but I paid it no mind. Being out in the boon-docks like this it could be anything from trash to a dead body. No, seriously, that happened sometimes. 'Tis a curse of living not too far from Chicago; apparently a corn-filled Indiana county makes a good dump site. You think I'm joking don't you? I'm not.

At first it was just a shift, so minute I barely even paid it any mind. It could have been the wind ruffling whatever the thing was. But then it moved as if to stand and let out some sort of moan. Suddenly I was much more interested. Being alive certainly widened the range of what the thing could be. A drunk idiot? Likely. A run away? Very possible. As I watched this thing I wracked my brain trying to remember the color of a cougar. Weren't those usually brown? Either way I didn't want to find out; Indiana may not have many wild cougars but that didn't mean I wanted to meet one. The sightings have gotten much more frequent in the past few years and I wasn't about to find out if I was about to become a statistic.

Very unsteadily the black mass struggled up onto two legs, confirming that it was human. Or a very short big foot. _How interesting would that be, to have a big foot as a pet? Imagine trying to take that thing for a walk. . ._I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. I could debate that choice of pet later, right now I should get out of here before that person noticed me. As quietly as I could, I eased the car door open. Rather, I attempted to; the car seemed to have other ideas. The door wouldn't budge. I looked through the window and saw why. It was locked. And my key was in the ignition.

"Merde!" I swore. "Dieu le fils maudit d'une chienne!"

I was about to haul off and kick the car (which would totally help the situation) when someone started scolding me in French. Well, I assume it was scolding. I don't know any polite French, just a few choice curses so I could swear in public without my mother smacking me. She'd never learned another language so, really, I was safe with anything other than English. But French is more fun than the others.

Slowly I looked up, knowing I was at the mercy of whoever this person was. The sight that met me, however, was completely unexpected. There stood someone whom I knew but couldn't have remembered if my life depended on it five seconds ago. It was like meeting a friend that had moved away in grade school. You forgot all about them until they were standing in front of you.

"Erik? What the hell are you doing here?"

"You, mademoiselle, have an incredibly foul mouth." He said, not missing a beat as the language changed.

"Well you knew that already. You gripe about it frequently."

He started. "I beg your pardon. Clearly you have mistaken me for someone else."

"You. . .don't know me?"

"Non. Where am I anyhow?"

I smirked to myself. Clearly my way o' speakin' had rubbed off on him. But Erik not knowing me? That was worrisome. Without saying anything I grabbed his head and pulled it down to my level. I ignored his protests and gave his head a thorough examination. To be honest, I was afraid that he might have had some sort of injury but for the life of me I couldn't find anything the matter. There was no goose egg forming, no spot that seemed tender, no blood. I released him and he after taking a few steps away from me he started fidgeting and pulling at his collar.

"Something the matter?"

"It's hot." He whined.

"Of course it is, it's June." I said. "Wait, did you just whine?"

He had and it just reinforced my belief that something was seriously wrong. For one, he had no memory of me or what had transpired in the past eight months and perhaps longer. For two, he was whining. Never in my life have I known of any version of him to whine. Mope, talk in third person, and be creepy, yes. But whine? That was completely out of character. It was more fitting for the Fop than it was for the Phantom.

Erik continued to whine about the heat as I absentmindedly lead him away from the road. Couldn't have him run over, could we? Once he caught sight of my car he stopped whining as much and started poking at it. Well, at least he would be out of my hair while I thought of a plan of action. My spare key was locked in the car and my normal set wasn't in my pocket. Erik seemed to have no memory of me and couldn't be left on his own. That would not end well.

The easier one to take care of would probably be the key issue. The one that needed to be taken care of first, however, would be the Erik issue. But how to go about it? The instant I thought about it, though, I knew exactly what would probably shock him into remembering. At the same time I knew it would probably end terribly at this point in time. Doing something so _intimate_when he wasn't in his right mind would be disastrous. There was, however, something I could do that would be similar and may work.

I suppose the best way to go about this would be to just do it already. It's not like I had any other ideas. With a deep breath to steel my nerves, I made my move. Pushing off of the fender I'd been leaning on, I reached up and pulled the mask from his face. Before Erik could react I reached forward and pressed my lips to his hollowed cheek. His hands snaked up and gripped my shoulders but made no move to push me from where I was. Other than that he didn't move, whether in confusion or shock I don't know. I kind of hoped the latter as it was the most likely of the two to restore his memory.

His whisper, when it came, was so low that I almost missed it. "Elizabeth. . ."

"Oh, Erik." I cried, throwing my arms around his neck. "Don't you ever worry me like that again!"

Very cautiously he returned my embrace, his hands moving from my shoulders to around my waist. He buried his face in my hair lovingly and, more likely, to hide it from any prying eyes that might come by. I couldn't really blame him; after all he was standing on the side of the road completely unmasked without anywhere to run to or anything to hide behind. To be honest I hadn't really thought of that. At the time the course of action I'd taken was the only option that presented itself to me and I would do it again if necessary, though perhaps in a more secluded spot.

"Erik," I asked, handing him back his mask and pulling away. "just how did you get here anyway?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. I remember you were being carried away from me and I was frightened because I didn't know who the man was or where he was taking you to." He studied the ground intently, as if he was afraid to look me in the eye. "I tried to stop you from being taken away from me and the next thing I know I'm standing here, with you. How did I end up with my mask off? It's not something I'm in the habit of doing."

"Oh," I blushed. "that's my fault, actually. You didn't know who the hell I was and de-masking you was part of my plan. Apparently it worked quite well."

"Ah."

Without giving it another thought he started examining my car, as if nothing had happened between his looking at it earlier and now. So he has a mild freak-out about not having his mask, finds out that I'm the reason he no longer has it, and is okay with this? The man was a walking contradiction. But, then again, he might not actually be okay with it. It was entirely possible that he was upset about it but was hiding it for some reason. Was he trying to keep himself from getting angry? In fact, the last time I remember him becoming angry was during that incident with Christine. He. . .he wasn't afraid I'd leave if he became angry was he? Good god, I left that time because I'd knowingly caused his anger and thought it best to just let him vent by himself.

"Erik. . .are you upset with me for removing your mask?"

"Hmm? Oh, no." He lied, and very badly I might add.

"Go on, tell me that you're upset. I'm not going to run away."

He stubbornly refused to say another word and I figured it was best to not argue. This was clearly something we'd have to deal with in the future but now obviously wasn't the time nor the place. Really it shouldn't be put off much longer but I was loathe to bring up something so painful for him, especially since it was my fault.

To be honest, though, I was a bit shocked that he hadn't mentioned what I'd done just now beyond asking about his mask. Knowing him, he probably thought I'd only done what I did because he wasn't acting like himself. He also probably thought I was secretly horrified at what I'd done and seen. What an idiot. I understand_ why_he always thought like that but at the same time I wanted to smack him. I knew he trusted me to some degree but I also knew I may never be able to get him to trust me that much. Doesn't mean I didn't want to find a way to get him to trust me completely.

However, now that the Erik issue was solved I had to deal with the other one. I ran a pat-down over my pockets again, but no, I didn't have my full set of keys on me. Looking through the window I confirmed that my key was still hanging out of the ignition and the doors were locked. Damn. Damn, damn, _damn_. I eyed Erik for a moment, debating. For an unexplained reason he was standing here so it could be possible. . .

"What are you doing?" He cried, yanking away from me.

"Looking for my keys." I sighed, giving up on my pat-down of him. "We're locked out of the car and I thought you might have had them."

"Why would I have them?"

"I don't know. Why are you standing here instead of chilling in Paris? It was worth a shot."

-E-

Within half an hour Erik and I were on the road, the top down in the blazing heat. I'd managed to escape a full-blown lecture from my Grandmother when she'd dropped off my keys _and_found out that she would be gone for a few hours. In other words Erik and I would have the house to ourselves. You've no idea how happy I was about this. Not for those reasons, either, you pervs. Eight months only being able to take a bath? Hello shower. Plus I really didn't need anyone walking in and seeing Erik sitting on the couch.

Speaking of Erik. . .he currently had a white-knuckle grip on the seat and looked terrified. I shouldn't find it funny, but I couldn't help it. Mr. I've-killed-more-people-than-I-can-count-and-I'm-the-Phantom-damn-it was afraid of a car ride. I knew why - cars didn't really even exist in 1882 - but it was still great. Of course, it could also have something to do with the fact that I was flying low down a country road with blatant disregard for the much slower speed limit. I wasn't that worried about cops, in this county they were lazy and never patrolled except around the high school before and after classes.

"Erik," I shouted over the wind "will you relax?"

"Relax? How can I relax?" He shouted back. "And slow down!"

I rolled my eyes. "Perhaps some music would calm you down."

"Don't you dare take your hands off that wheel!"

Despite what he seemed to believe, I am a decent driver. I reached over with one hand to turn on the stereo, pushing my sunglasses up with the other and steering with my knee. The sign of a country kid right there. Speeding down a country road, driving with a knee, and dodging potholes without a single problem. I doubt he'll ever see something like this anywhere else.

Sometimes I really hate my stereo. Actually, the whole freaking car. Yes it was old but it had way too many mental problems. In this instance the CD player wasn't wanting to work but after giving it a few hand-bruising smacks it reconsidered that decision. Music is said to sooth the savage beast and I was hoping it would calm Erik down enough that he wouldn't have a heart attack in fear. However, the instant the song started I knew this wasn't going to end well. Def Leppard? Erik may be Victorian but he isn't dense.

_Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on_  
_Livin' like a lover with a radar phone_  
_Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp_  
_Demolition woman, can I be your man?_  
_(Your man)_

_Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light_  
_Television lover, baby, go all night_  
_Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet_  
_Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah_

_Come on! Take a bottle, shake it up_  
_Break the bubble, break it up_

_Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love_  
_Pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up_  
_Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough_  
_I'm hot, sticky sweet from my head to my feet, yeah_

"What on earth is this noise?"

"Again, it's not noise. It's music. Def Leppard, to be exact."

"Well it makes no sense. Please find something else."

"Stick your mind in the gutter, Erik, and it'll all make sense."

A look of absolute horror flashed over his face. Ahaha, he got it! Suppose I might as well oblige him by changing the song. To be honest, I didn't remember what CD was even in there. There was no telling what song was next; I never did have a theme when I burnt them.

_I'm so addicted to_  
_All the things you do_  
_When you're going down on me_  
_In between the sheets_

Although apparently I did have a theme this time._ Forget this,_ I thought,_ I'll just get a new damn CD._Without really thinking about it I reached between Erik's legs and under his seat to where my CD case - well, one of them anyway - was stashed. He shriek could have woke the dead. I glanced up into his face to see an unreadable expression there.

"Sorry," I shouted, flipping open the over-loaded case. "I forget to warn people sometimes. What do you want to listen to?"

"The grass under my feet." He squeaked.

I looked over at him, trying to judge what he might enjoy. We weren't far from home so it couldn't be anything you had to listen to for a bit to like. It had to be a love-it-or-leave-it band. Running a finger down the CDs I contemplated the various bands contained therein. I'd always figured he would like the style of P!ATD and they were just the sort of band I needed. Still rather sexual, at least as far as the album I was popping in was concerned, but it was easily overlooked.

Skipping the Introduction, I waited anxiously for the voice of Brendon Urie to begin spilling from the speakers. To this day I still can't say what it was about his voice that made me a fan. He couldn't sing, not technically anyway, but his voice had some quality to it that I couldn't put a name to.

_Sit tight, I'm gonna need you to keep time_  
_Come on just snap, snap, snap your fingers for me_  
_Good, good now we're making some progress_  
_Come on just tap, tap, tap your toes to the beat_  
_And I believe this may call for a proper introduction, and well_  
_Don't you see, I'm the narrator, and this is just the prologue?_

Honey-like? No, that wasn't it. His voice wasn't even really smooth. It kind of. . .cracked. . .too much for it to be considered smooth.

_Swear to shake it up, if you swear to listen_  
_Oh, we're still so young, desperate for attention_  
_I aim to be your eyes, trophy boys, trophy wives_

Perhaps it was just his looks combined with his voice that made him so appealing. I'm not shallow but Brendon's hot. Especially with a guitar in his hands or a keyboard under his fingers. And his nerd glasses didn't hurt anything when he wore them. Plus, any guy that can both play and sing the Mario theme song by heart is great in my book.

I may or may not have a thing for musicians.

Speaking of musicians, the one sitting beside me was just as terrified now as he was five minutes ago. I reached over and gave his gloved hand a light squeeze. Gently I coaxed his hand to release its death grip on the seat and laced my fingers with his. Without taking my eyes from the road I slowly pulled his hand up with mine to rest on top of the windshield, letting the wind whistle over our joined hands.

"See, Erik? It's not so bad."


	2. Chapter 2

**I deeply apologize for having taken so damn long in updating. I really do feel awful and there's no excuse.**

**I think I ended up being a bit crass at times as the chapter got on. I blame it on having been tumblring right before I wrote it. **

**And, yes, we've got a time jump. There's probably going to be a lot of those in the story.**

**It's shorter than I'd like but I've taken too long to get it out anyway so I didn't want to wait another day or two while I filled it out some. You're kind of just getting the bare bones. Sorry 'bout that.**

* * *

It had been less than a month since I'd come home with Erik in tow. When we last left off, dear reader, Erik and I were flying low through the country. Where we pick up is surprisingly similar, except instead of flying low we were pulling into a packed but deserted parking lot.

In the time that had passed Erik had gone through a drastic change in appearance and, aside from the mask, could blend in to a crowd. He'd been forced to accede to my demands when it came to fashion (namely, shorts and a t-shirt) once he'd moved into my Father's house. Mind you, my Father had no idea he was there. Erik was, after all, a professional ghost. When my Father was home he was forced to hide in either the basement or the attic, which could get upwards of 100 on a cooler day. Between the heat and scanty amount of food Erik was miserable. I knew it, but there wasn't any other option. Even though he'd been slowly hoarding spare change my Father left laying around the house (and then forgot about) there was no way either of us could afford to get him a place of his own.

"What are we doing here, Elizabeth? You hate early mornings."

"That I do, Erik. That I do." I said, pulling open the door and ushering him into the foyer. "However I thought you might like to see what I've spent a large portion of my life doing the past four years. Now, I want to warn you, this is going to be more familiar to you yet very foreign."

"How so?"

"Well, the attitudes of people have changed and technology changes too."

"Don't I know it." He muttered. Poor guy had been lost with something as simple as a bath. I had to explain again and again how the water came out of the wall.

"Anyway," I continued. "I know you and you're not going to be able to resist once you get in there. People will see you and assume you know what you're doing, which you do to an extent. My point is, try to remember you're supposed to be from this century."

"So what do I get if I manage to blend in, hmm?"

I grinned. "Depends on what your price is."

His response was drowned out by as a wave of sound washed over us through the open music department door. Instruments honking, drums banging, people singing, and laughter spilled from the bad room at the end of the short hall. People stood around, chatting idly about how band camp was too early in the morning and catching up on what had gone down over the summer. Some waved to me as we walked through while most stared curiously at Erik.

"Oh, remember something else, Erik." I said in the worst French possible. "No one here's ever heard me mention knowing anyone in a different country. As far as they know we haven't know each other long so we have to be careful how we act around each other."

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye as I stepped into the band room. I wasn't more than two steps in before a short flying blonde attacked me. It was only due to Erik's quick reactions that both she and I didn't crash to the floor.

"Elizabeth! Oh my gosh, I missed you!"

I laughed. "Hullo Meg. It's only been two months!"

"That's just too long!" She cried, wrapping her arms around me.

I barely had time to brace myself before another girl flew at me. This one was taller than the first with light brown hair. Ah, Jo.

"Liz!"

"Hello dear." I looked around the room as the two girls clung to me. "Hmm, seems a bit empty here. Did a lot of people quit before they heard The Great Arsehole was leaving?"

"Yeah…" Meg's face fell. "Most of the gang left."

"That's the new guy over there." Jo said, pointing out the new director to me. Good thing, too; I would've mistaken him for a Freshman.

"Care to introduce me?"

Meg drug me - quite literally - over to the new director. After speaking to him for less than five minutes I had a very poor opinion of him. He'd snapped at me to keep my ass to the sidelines and not touch his band. Well pardon me for thinking he might want a bit of help. I realize he was probably stressed to no end, but still.

Once again I must reiterate a phrase that I foresee me saying a lot more in the future: Poor Erik. I'd thought he'd be fine just standing near the door while I was gone, but no. Jo had stuck around and annoyed him to the point that his eye was twitching. Really, I was shocked. It'd taken me hours to do what she'd done in ten minutes.

"Who's this?" Jo asked. "I can't get a word out of him."

"Be nice!" I chastised him before addressing her. "This is Erik, a guy I know from France. Just moved here."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. "He moved from_ France_ to _here_? Does he have a screw loose?"

"Nooo, he simply didn't know anyone in the country but me. I guess he figured he might as well move somewhere close to someone he already knew. Wait, why am I talking for you Erik? You've got a tongue."

"Oh, eloquent Elizabeth."

"Why thank you!" I beamed at him. "I thought so too."

I turned back to face Jo and burst out laughing at her face. She was staring at Erik, her mouth hanging open, and I swear she was drooling a bit. Erik looked between Jo and I, clearly confused as to why I was laughing and what was wrong with her. Myself I knew just why she was looking at him like that; I'd fought the same reaction every time he spoke for the first few months I'd been in Paris.

Meg, who'd been getting her piccolo ready, handed Jo's piccolo to her and pulled her out the door saying something about being late to the practice field. The inner band nerd in me started shouting that my lazy ass was going to be in deep shit if I didn't get moving and, with some difficulty, I managed to shut it up. I wasn't a member of this band anymore and didn't have to be on time anywhere.

"I feel as though I've missed something here. What was so funny?"

"Oh," I chuckled. "it was your accent. We Americans are very fond of accents because we don't have any interesting ones ourselves. Yours is particularly interesting because it's not just straight-up French. You've got a bit of everything in there."

He glanced around to make sure we were alone before murmuring in my ear. "Hmm, and do you find my accent attractive?"

A small shiver ran down my spine and I balled my fists to keep from reaching out and grabbing him. Dear god, he could make ovaries explode just by talking.

"God yes." I half-moaned, blushing madly. "Do you have no concept of how attractive you really are? You are, quite literally, sex on legs."

He froze. "I am?"

"Erik, if I was a looser woman I'd show you just how much so. As it is I'm tempted to anyway."

And I wasn't lying. I knew plenty of girls (and one guy) who'd throw him in a practice room and have their way with him if they were in my position right now. I had my morals but that didn't mean I wasn't tempted to do the same thing, through perhaps somewhere less public. No matter how you looked at it, I was still a young girl with raging hormones and a smexy man at my disposal.

Erik drew back slowly and stared at me with wide eyes. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that. Oops. As my aforementioned hormones cooled I felt stupider and stupider.

"Umm, we should, uh, go outside now before we get locked in."

As it turned out, we were locked in anyway. Not in the building, mind you, but in the small open area between the main building and the Ag Shop. The school had gotten into some serious trouble at the end of last school year and had to put in a lot of new security measures one of which was a fence inclosing the area between the two buildings. The instant we stepped out the door it locked behind us, trapping us in that area. Erik produced a hairpin from somewhere and had the lock on the gate picked in a short amount of time. I snapped the lock back shut behind us and wordlessly headed down the alley and across the bus parking lot to the smaller off-shoot one that served as the practice field.

I was almost to the end of the alley between the Ag Shop and another branch of the main building when Erik pulled me to a stop. He was trying to look me in the eyes, I suppose, but my gaze was locked firmly to the ground and it wasn't budging.

"Elizabeth? Something wrong?"

"Nothing." I said, trying to pull away.

"No, tell me what's wrong."

Somehow between my trying to get away and his trying to keep me from doing so my back hit the wall and I was lost. My vision went black and it seemed like I was having a nightmare in the middle of the day. Ghostly hands reached out, touching, violating, and I was so cold. Tears ran down my face as a shadowy figure loomed over me, giving the ghostly hands an owner._ Please. Please don't. Stop, please._ Clothing. My clothing was being torn away.

Someone was calling my name. It was distant and hard to hear but definitely there._ Erik? Oh, Erik, please help me!_ Cool hands were on my jaw, tilting my head up to look in the golden eyes of my captor._ Let me go. Let me go or I'll scream._ A hand covered my mouth to keep me from doing just that and I bit down. Hard. The hand's owner yelped and pulled back, taking with them the sense of safety I hadn't even realized was there. I whimpered as the shadowy figure that still loomed over me continued its assault._ Help me. Erik? Anybody? Please, someone help me._

A sharp slap brought me back to reality.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm so sorry."

Erik reached forward and laid a cool hand on my cheek, covering the angry red mark I knew was already forming. It had to have taken a lot of nerve for him to overcome his Victorian upbringing and strike me, even if it was necessary. He was ashamed to have done it, I could tell, but I wasn't upset with him. If anything I was upset with myself. It takes talent to humiliate yourself twice in fifteen minutes.

Without a word I pulled away and continued my trek to the practice field. All I wanted now was to pretend nothing had happened until tonight when I could curl up in a ball of shame alone. And for a few hours I did a damn good job of just that. Pretending nothing happened, I mean.

We simply sat in silence watching the band march around the parking lot and sweat to death. The only shade in the area was right where Erik and I were, in the shadow of the Fine Art Center. Coincidentally it was also the location of the only grass by the practice field that wasn't occupied by the non-marching band members and the stand that the director and main drum major for whatever song they happened to be doing stood on. That being said, I was loathe to move from my spot. It was, quite literally, twenty degrees hotter outside the shade.

Erik had been studying the band intently, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Well, I should say he was _pretending_ to be studying the band. In all reality he was watching me when he thought I wasn't looking. Either he wasn't trying all that hard to be inconspicuous or his ninja skills were slipping.

I sighed. "What, Erik?"

"You're upset with me, aren't you? You have every right to be."

"I'm not upset."

"I don't believe you."

"Look, I'm not upset with you! Okay?"

Silence descended between us again as the band took a water break and our shade was invaded. I did my best to joke around with them and not smack the know-it-all Freshmen. They were cocky little bastards, just like almost every other Freshmen I'd ever met. But, I digress.

Just like old times the five minute break was gone too soon and the band was back to work, sweating their asses off and turning into lobsters. I almost got up and joined them just to avoid the awkwardness between Erik and I. Almost. The instant we were alone again I regretted my choice to stay where I was because Erik started right back in.

"You claim to not be upset but you clearly are."

"Drop it, Erik."

"No." Clearly he knew nothing about women. Drop it meant drop it, damn it.

"Fine. Yes, I'm upset. No, I'm not upset with you."

"Will you tell me _why_ you're upset?"

"Really rather not."

"Please, Elizabeth?" He asked, giving me the best puppy dog eyes I've ever seen.

"Jesus Christ, alright. For the record you are dragging this out of me."

He turned to face me fully and I considered backing out of telling him. It wasn't really necessary that he know. Plus I honestly didn't want to tell him. I leaned back against the brick wall, staring past the band and across the field to watch the cars going down the highway. They were just little dots, really, except for when a semi went by. Or a tractor. You can't really miss the tractors.

"I'm waiting, Elizabeth."

Crap, I'd hoped he'd get the hint. He was too persistent for his own good.

"Very well." I sighed. "I'm upset with myself. I just humiliated myself rather spectacularly in less than fifteen minutes. Now, if you please, drop the subject and pretend none of it happened."

"Do you mean what happened inside?"

"Well, that and whatever the hell that was in the alley."

"I've been expecting something like that since we arrived, you know. I was afraid you were avoiding dealing with what happened in Paris. It's not good to do that."

My brows furrowed. "What happened in Paris?"

"You don't remember? Oh, that's not good. That's not good at all."

"I've forgotten something important, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. More important than you realize."

He looked almost crushed that I'd forgotten whatever it was.

"Look, Erik, I'm sure I'll remember eventually. It can't be nearly so important now that we're not in Paris anymore, right?"

* * *

**HOLY CRAB CAKES, BATMAN! READ THIS RIGHT HERE! IT'S IMPORTANT!**

**Ahem. Now that I have your attention.**

**Elizabeth's forgotten (or, more likely, blocked out) the fact that she was attacked and nearly killed in Paris. This means she doesn't really remember how they got to the 21st century. Or that she told Erik she loved him. She is aware of her feels for him but can't remember what caused her to realize how she feels.**

**Yay for PTSD and retrograde amnesia!**


	3. Chapter 3

** I had almost this entire chapter written out awhile ago but my plot bunny hit a snag and decided to start over from almost the very beginning. Goddamnsonofabitch. **

**It's shorter than I'd like but I just couldn't keep writing it. The last bit of this was written right after having watched the Doctor Who episode "Doomsday" and anyone who knows what I'm talking about will understand._ Feels. Left over DW feels wrote the ending._**

**…I need chocolate. **

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"Hey, Liz, a bunch of the gang's all going to meet up at B-Dubs to eat and then go hang out at Wal-Mart. Wanna come?" Meg asked.

"Ummmm, sure. Why not?"

"Elizabeth?" Erik asked as soon as Meg was out of earshot. "What's B-Dubs?"

"Oh, it's a restaurant. More like a sports bar, really. It's actually called Buffalo Wild Wings but for some reason we call it B-Dubs around here."

He nodded absentmindedly, his attention caught by something across the band room from where we were currently sitting. I had to give the new director props for one thing, he was much more generous with how long the lunch break was. Now that they had the luxury of time, most people were wandering around the school looking for somewhere that wasn't crowded or the room there were stuck in all week to eat at which left Erik and I the only ones in the band room.

And so I didn't really think much of it when Erik sat down at the much-abused upright piano in the far corner of the room. I honestly figured he'd find the tuning sub-standard (it was) and stop messing with it after a few minutes. Wrong, and I should have seen that coming. The only instrument he had access to at my father's was an old piano that was un-tunable anymore which was, incidentally, how my father got it for free in the first place. It didn't matter if it worked at all, it was just something for me to beat on as a kid. Now someone was trying to play the old thing and, well, I can only image how that sounded. Like a dieing cat probably.

A beautiful melody (either written by someone long-since dead or Erik himself) filled the room and brought with it nearly every band nerd in the area. Hearing the piano played wasn't all that uncommon - nearly everyone tinkered with it - but with such quality? That was incredibly rare. In fact, before Paris, I had never heard one played so beautifully. It has been said time and again that Erik had a wonderful skill with music (everything, actually) but it really was true. I know I can't be the only one that thought it had been exaggerated for the sake of a story. Sometimes Erik reminded me of a Mary-Sue with all the crap he was fantastic at.

It seemed Erik had become aware of the crowd he'd attracted because the music had stopped entirely. With a sigh I made my way to him, prepared to help stave off any sticky inquires. Much to my surprise Erik was actually chatting a little with the group that had gathered. I know. Erik playing nicely? Pigs are surely flying over Seattle right now.

"What else do you play?" Someone asked, I didn't catch who.

"Everything."

_Watch it, Erik._ I thought,_ You might just get handed something you've never seen before._

"Well, nearly everything." He corrected.

"Really?" A trumpet friend of mine asked. "So which is your favorite, then?"

He thought for a long moment before answering. I was curious to hear his answer, myself.

"I'd have to say the violin. You can coax such beautiful sounds from it, if you know how."

Huh. I would've bet on either the piano or the organ. Though, I guess, the latter would've been too cliché. The Phantom of the Opera likes the organ? Imagine that. Next you're going to tell me he wears a mask!

As the questions kept coming I could see him getting more and more uncomfortable. Before I had a chance to save him, though, someone said something the made my breath catch.

"Who the hell does this guy think he is, the Phantom of the Opera?" Someone said from behind me, over by the door. "What's with the mask anyway? I wonder if he's terribly disfigured under there. Ooooo! I am the Phantom. _Aaaahhh_!"

Erik froze mid-word. There was no pretending he hadn't heard and I, for one, was furious. I turned around slowly, hunting down whoever it was that was about to die. Only two people stood by the door, one I knew well and one I had never seen before. It wasn't the one I knew who'd spoken.

"Think you're funny, do you, freshman?"

"Look at 'im! Star of a damn freak show in that thing, he is." The boy laughed, thinking he'd made the greatest joke ever.

"Oh, look, you made another funny." I gave him just the sweetest smile. "And if, by chance, the Phantom of the Opera actually happened to be standing here would you continue? Do you think that would be wise, boy, insulting the Phantom like that? He_ is_ a crazy mass murderer after all. If you insist upon continuing the insults like that I'd keep my hand at the level of my eyes if I were you."

"What are you even talkin' about?"

"Oooh! Oh, I get it! You're using something you know nothing about to insult someone because of how they look. Bad form, kid, bad form. At the very least know enough about what you're using to insult to back up said insult when challenged. Now you've just made a fool of yourself."

"Don't call me a kid. Who the fuck are you?"

"Your elder, so learn some damn respect before I slap that smug look off your face."

This is why I hate freshmen. They think they know everything and are better than everyone. Stupid little punks. It's my belief they all need bitch-slapped at least once. Yes I realize I was a freshman once but I wasn't this bloody insolent. Or rude.

I turned my back to him, not really caring that he was still sputtering at me. I'd only gotten about halfway back to the piano (which, in all reality was a short distance anyway) when Erik was suddenly at my side, hand outstretched behind me holding something mid-air.

"How dare you. I may have done some terrible things in my life but never have I hit a lady and you will not either."

Slowly I turned back around to see Erik holding the kid's fist, which had been on a crash course with the back of my head. That little bastard had intended to punch me while I wasn't looking. Forget this crap, Erik wasn't going to want to stay here anymore and I certainly didn't either.

"Merci, Erik. Perhaps we should just leave."

"I was thinking the same thing. Shall we?"

-E-

Coming back from Paris I had expected to find some things changed. After all, someone who shouldn't exist had just been introduced into the universe. Surprisingly I'd only come across one thing that was different and that was that my grandmother hadn't retired. When I'd gone to Paris she'd been retired for several years and fairly miserable because she had nothing to do all day. Now she was hardly ever home and happily employed.

This worked out in Erik and I's favor. Had she still been retired he would have been all by himself almost all the time. It was a well-known fact in my house that I didn't like my father so it would seem odd if I was constantly at his house. With my grandmother retired I could pick up Erik in the morning, we could hang out in the air conditioning all day, and I ran him back before anyone got home from work. Not the best of a situation gas wise, but it worked.

At the moment Erik and I were lounging on the couch, him staring at the TV (he still hadn't quite grasped that one yet) while I flicked through channels randomly. I settled on a Doctor Who rerun - which was something Erik had discovered he liked - prepared to either have the bejesus scared out of me or laugh my ass off at the antics of the Doctor and his companion(s).

"So, your friends call you Liz?"

"Yes and I hate it. Don't you dare start doing so." I sighed. "I don't know why they even started. My mom's the only one I let call me anything else, and that's only because she intended to call me Lizzy for short from the beginning. It never caught on with the rest of the family, for which I'm immensely grateful. I happen to like my name just the way it is."

"Meaning I can't call you Eliza?"

I grimaced. "I suppose I can't make you not. Frankly I don't care if you call me Rajesh so long as you don't shorten my name."

"Rajesh?"

"Don't ask. Reference to a fictional character."

Whatever his response was going to be was lost as my little kitty, Faye, jumped onto the couch and got up in his face. I have to admit, I was jealous. Faye didn't really like me but she adored Erik. It just wasn't fair. Now Zues, Faye's brother, he liked me. He was also so lazy that he never gave any sort of affection to anyone or anything other than his favorite blanket. Which he stole from me.

Erik sat watching his show and absentmindedly petting Faye without another word. Honestly I was a little bit worried after the comments that kid had made about Erik earlier. It was a matter of time before Erik asked about how the kid had known about the Phantom. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that a Victorian scandal wasn't something that should still be spoken off today.

I really wasn't looking forward to introducing Erik to the fandom or telling him just how many of us crazy phans there were. Partially that hesitation came from the fact that I had more PotO related things than I probably should and they were all right under his nose. I knew one thing for sure, he was never going to learn of some of the fanfictions out there. Could you imagine if he came across a Raoul/Erik phic? Oh. My. _God_.

"Elizabeth?" He asked as the end credits were rolling - more like flying - up the screen. "Can I…ask something?"

"You don't have to ask to ask."

"When we were at that school and that boy…" _Uh-oh._ "I don't understand how he knew who I am."

"He, ummm, he didn't. That is to say, he knew of you but not you."

"I don't follow."

"Aw, hell, Erik. I was hoping you could go through life here without finding out, even though I knew it was impossible."

"Finding out what?"

And so I went through the house and gathered every bit of official PotO merchandise I had. With a sigh I tossed the book that started it all into his lap. Every time I dropped something else into his lap it felt like I was slapping him across the face. Two books, two DVDs, and a CD later Erik was giving me the most confused look ever.

"They…still talk of such an old scandal?"

"Well, it is a scandal, it is old, and they do still talk of it but you're missing the point."

"Which would be?"

I sighed again. Really, I thought he would catch on quicker than this. I grabbed the first thing I'd tossed into his lap and flipped it over, pointing to the word 'FICTION' in the top left corner.

"Gaston Leroux wrote the very first book."

"They don't think my story really happened?"

God he could be thick at times. Though, I guess, something like this would be hard to grasp.

"You're still missing the point, Erik. I'm just going to…say it, okay? You're sitting in front of me so you exist and your story was real. Just not here. Wherever you're from and wherever Paris was, it wasn't in this universe. I don't know how I got from here to there and how we got back, but we did. And in this universe your story is fictional. Meg, Christine, Madam Giry, Raoul, Nadir, Philippe, you…all of you are part of that story."

"So you're saying I'm not real." He whispered.

"You are but, at the same time, you're not. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? In parallel universes things are never the same and the difference between yours and mine is the legend of the Phantom. In yours it wasn't just a legend, in mine…well…"

Oh god, this was why I didn't want him to know. His entire world, his entire life, and he was being told it never really happened. That he really was an outsider, that he honestly and truly didn't belong. His disfigurement may have kept him from being a part of society where he was from but at least he could say that he belonged there, even if he didn't truly_ belong_. Here he had nothing. Nothing but me and what use was I?

He just sat there for a moment and I wasn't sure what to expect. Anger? Depression? Shock? Horror? Anything was likely. Without a word he picked up the things I'd_ stupidly_ shown to him and looked at each carefully before setting it down on the table. He tuned away from me then, staring off into space. The only sign of any emotion, any reaction, was his shoulders beginning to shake.

"Take me back, Elizabeth." He said through tears I couldn't see. "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home. Take me back."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry about how long it's been since I updated. Even though I know where I'm going with this I've been battling a bout of writer's block. However, I'm back in school and that means writing time where I can't be distracted by the internet! You should seriously see me when I sit down to type chapters up during the semester. It's like an explosion of notebooks and random papers with things written in the margins. Bit difficult to get the parts in the right order, especially when multiple parts are in the same notebook.**

* * *

_"Take me back, Elizabeth." He said through tears I couldn't see. "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home. Take me back."_

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. I'll take you back up to my father's."

"No. Take me back home."

"But, Erik, that is your home. Sort of."

"Don't you get it?!" He cried, jumping off the couch. "This isn't my home. It never will be and I don't want it to be. Take me back to Paris. Back to my own time. Take me home."

Wh-what? He…didn't want to make a home here? This is the hand fate dealt him. He could be happy here and he won't even give it a chance?

"Erik, I told you, I don't know how either of us got from one place to the other. I can't get you back."

He leaned over me, resting a hand on the back of the couch to either side of my head. I was effectively caged with a panic-filled Erik above me. Nothing about this could end well. Oh dear god.

"You brought me here knowing full well that you couldn't get me back? How dare you! How dare you rip my life apart, tear me away from everything I know, and then just toss me aside without any way of going back to how I was before you showed up!"

"But I didn't bring you here." I said meekly. "I honestly don't know how you got here."

And it was true. We had to have been in some sort of parallel universe or something. It didn't seem possible, but it was the only explanation. I didn't know how I got there, how Erik even _existed_, or how the two of us ended up here.

"The hell you didn't." He spat. "It's because of you I'm here. You and your realizations and confessions! If you had kept your bloody mouth shut I would still be home, thinking you'd died in my arms. Don't you get it? I could have moved on with my life all the while believing you were dead! I wish you were."

Without any warning, I burst into tears.

"Y-you're so c-cruel!" I sobbed. "I wish I were dead. At least then you couldn't hurt me so."

"Elizabeth," He sighed, lifting a hand toward my cheek.

"No! D-don't touch me!" And then I flung the worst insult I ever could at him. "Y-you really are a m-monster!"

With that, I surged up off the couch and ran into my room. The instant the door shut behind me I collapsed to the ground, crying my eyes out. Not dignified tears like in the old movies. No, the snot-filled and red-eyed kind of someone who's had their heat well and truly stomped on.

-E-

After I dropped Erik off that night we didn't speak for nearly a week. Despite his best attempts to apologize I was still both furious and upset at the same time. I understood that he was upset about not being where and when he knew. He still had no right to take out his frustrations on me. There was absolutely no reason to say such hurtful things to and about me simply because he was frustrated. It's not like he even had menstruating as an excuse. Though, with the way he'd acted, I wouldn't have laid money on that.

To say I was shocked the next time we spoke would be an understatement. I'd answered the phone prepared to be annoyed with my father just to hear Erik on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth? Have I done this correctly?"

I'd written down my cell number and shown him how to use a phone, just in case of an emergency. Never had I thought he would actually call me.

"Yeah? Something wrong?"

"N-no! I-I was just…umm…that is to say-"

"Erik? Spit it out."

In possibly the smallest voice ever he muttered "I was lonely."

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"I'm sorry, it's just…you purposefully avoided people for how long? And now you're lonely!" I chuckled again.

"Well I'm glad you find it so funny."

"It's not funny yet it is. I guess my living there spoiled you. Look at you! The elusive Phantom is becoming a people person!"

There was no sound from the other end of the line and suddenly I was worried. Had I offended him? I didn't mean to.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed."

"No, you shouldn't have." He said bluntly.

I hung my head, thoroughly ashamed of myself. Not just for this but my behavior in general over the past week. I shouldn't have avoided Erik like I had. It wasn't fair to him or myself.

"Elizabeth, would it be possible for us to talk? In person?"

"Alright. I'll head that way."

During the drive to my father's it dawned on me just how awkward this entire situation was. I was burning through a lot of gas running back and forth like this. It would be much more convenient for everyone involved if there was somewhere closer for Erik to stay. Actually it would be easiest if he could just stay with me, but it wasn't possible. Well, it wasn't possible at this point in time.

I had to hand it to Erik. Pulling into the drive there was no sign of life in the house and it looked for all the world like my father was at work (he was) with no one home. After letting myself in I had the lovely task of tracking down Erik's hiding spot, which was much harder than is sounded.

For being a bachelor my father had a huge house. He'd bought it several years before I was born and, at the time, hadn't really wanted it. Instead of just the barn lot he'd wanted he ended up with the two story, five bedroom house too.

Erik, it seems, had decided the attic would be the best place for him to hide out despite the extreme heat. How he was locking the attic door from the inside with the lock being on the outside I'll never know. Either way, the attic was where I found him lounging.

"Why are you up here? It's so hot." I whined.

"I used to avoid being up here but some woman let herself in and I barely hid myself in time."

"Ah. That would have been my Grandmother. She does tend to just come over randomly to put food in the fridge."

He pulled a face. "And it's not even very good food."

"Not all of us are French cooks, Erik. She tries."

I climbed back down out of the attic, Erik following me silently to the living room. He sat awkwardly on the extreme edge of the couch, staring at the floor and twiddling his thumbs. What was up with him? He'd been fine a moment ago and now he was avoiding me. It's not like I'd just shown up here. He'd called me, after all.

"Erik? Is…something the matter?

"No. Yes." He sighed. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. For everything."

"Huh?" Was my dignified response.

"I'm sorry I was rude to you. I'm sorry I laughed every time you tripped over your skirts. I'm sorry I never stopped to consider how you felt being trapped in a time and place that wasn't your own. I'm sorry for the tings I said the last time we saw each other. I'm sorry for not protecting you in the torture chamber. I'm so sorry for all the times I've put you in danger just by being near you. I'm so very, _very_ sorry for hurting you like I do."

_ Uhh…he…I…erm…dafuq?_ I stared at him blankly, shocked into silence. Erik never apologized for anything, even if he should. And he certainly didn't apologize for the past. He was apologizing for himself and I didn't like that, not one bit. He was my sometimes rude, sometimes arrogant, usually caring Erik and I wouldn't want him any other way.

"Um…thanks, I think." I finally stuttered. "But, uh, you shouldn't say sorry for who you are. I'm used to your unintentional rudeness."

"Are you calling me rude? After all I just said?"

"You can be, yeah. I rarely say anything 'cause normally you don't realize it."

"Oh, how kind of you." He said sarcastically.

"Oi! Don't start! D'ya really wanna start arguin' again?"

"We seem to be good at it, so why not?"

"Erik," I warned. "don't do this."

"No, Elizabeth, I think we should air out all our grievances with each other right now."

"Erik…"

"Since you seem to have so many issues with me, you go again."

Oh god, why was he still talking? He was determined to burn every bridge apparently. _Erik, please don't do this_. I didn't know what had gotten into him or why he was acting this way.

"Can't decided which to say first? I'll go, then. Elizabeth Smith you have to be the most-"

I had to shut him up, and fast. So without really even thinking about it I cut him off by doing the one thing I didn't think I'd ever do. I kissed him.

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** The Fluff Bunny made me do it. It made me leave you all with a cliffy. (Which, incidentally, is why the chapter is so short.)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so sorry about the wait. First Erik couldn't pick a reaction and stick to it, which made it exceedingly hard to write. Then I got wrapped up cranking out my Weeping Angel cosplay and was doing that when I wasn't in class. This chapter ended up being written at around one in the morning a week or two ago and then just fleshed out a bit during class last week. It's very dialogue heavy and dives deep into their relationship, mainly Elizabeth's feelings. I hope this clears up some confusion and misconceptions I know some people have had since mid-Masquerade. If not…well, I tried.**

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Beneath me, Erik froze. He sat dumbly on the couch, hands laying limply to either side of him, and didn't respond in the slightest. Well. This was mildly insulting. I knew I wasn't a good kisser (I had no experience) but still, _some_sort of reaction would be nice. After all, he had a woman sitting in his lap. If nothing else his Victorian instincts should be kicking in and making him scramble out from under me.

Frustrated beyond belief I stood and moved across the room to stare out the window. Several minutes passed in which neither of us said a word. When I finally glanced back Erik hadn't moved a muscle.

"I was trying to shut you up but I didn't think it would work quite this well."

"Elizabeth, can I…ask something?"

"Oh so you are alive!"

That one earned me a glare. What? It was a completely valid concern seeing as he'd taken on the appearance of a statue.

"This is going to sound strange, but, did you…um…did you just…?"

"Kiss you? Yep. Shut you up better than I thought it would. I'll have to remember that."

"So I didn't dream that up." He said, sounding incredibly relieved.

"Nope. Wait, what? You dream about kissing me?"

He flushed a deep scarlet. "That's…unimportant. The important part is that you meant what you said in Paris."

"Meant…what I said…in Paris." What on earth was he talking about? "Erik, I said a lot of things while in Paris."

"What you said when we were leaving."

"I've told you before, I don't remember leaving."

And it was true. I remembered going looking for him after he disappeared from the Moulin Rouge but nothing else. I had a vague impression that something awful happened, something some part of me didn't want to remember. To be honest, I was okay with that. Clearly there was a reason I was forcing myself to forget that night.

"I know you said that, but I just thought…because you…"

"What the hell did I say?"

"Just that…never mind, it's not important apparently."

I shrugged and turned back towards the window. Sometimes the easiest way to find out something is to pretend you couldn't care less. It doesn't always work - in fact, never for me - but this time it did.

"You…you said you loved me."

"Oh." Didn't remember saying that and it's something I'd have remembered. "I'm sure I meant it at the time."

"A-At the time?" He sputtered. "So your feelings have changed."

"I never said that. Don't go puttin' words in my mouth."

"So they haven't changed?"

"Again, I never said that. To be completely honest I'm not sure how I feel."

"It's a simple question. Do you still love me? Or has being home around the people you know changed how you feel?"

_It's not that simple, Erik. _Honestly I'm confused as to how I feel but I wasn't going to tell him that. A part of me wanted to say that, yes, I do love him. Another part says that it doesn't matter how I feel. That there's too much wrong with us being in a relationship, mainly that he was fictional. Somewhere in the middle was a part that admitted I cared for him and it was that part currently controlling my mouth.

"You know I care for you, Erik. I care for you very much."

"Yes, but do you love me?"

"Why define it? Does it really need saying?" Honestly I never would've expected him to push the issue so much.

"It does need saying because I need to know. I need to know what you think of me, how you feel about me."

I stared out the window for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts.

"Well, you know the real me, which is something in and of itself." I said, turning back to face him. "I never felt like I had to hide myself around you like I do with everyone else. You know me, perhaps, better than my own mother. I don't fear being judged by you and you just take my oddness in stride. 'Course you probably don't realize just how odd I really am or even understand half the things I say. Anyway, I appreciate it more than you could imagine.

"I know that, despite public opinion, you're a really sweet guy. A bit moody, yeah, but a beautiful soul under all that. I know what you've done, knew before I even met you. Somehow I could never really bring myself to truly care. I mean, yeah, it bothered me that you whacked people but in the beginning it was self defense. After that you kinda just…went bat-shit crazy. Am I afraid of you? No and I never was. Do I think you're nuts? Hell yeah. All the best people may be round the bend but, sometimes, I think you go past the good kind of mad. Irregardless I consider you a very good friend."

"Is that all I am, then? A friend?"

"No," I smiled. "you surpassed the level of a friend long ago. Somewhere around the night of that storm, I should think. I've no idea what level you've risen to, though."

Somehow it amused me to no end that he was afraid of being friend-zoned. I don't think he really realized that he was afraid of it or even knew what 'it' was.

He nodded slowly. "Once I thought I could be happy simply being a friend to you but now, I think, that isn't the case anymore. I find myself wanting to be closer to you, to reclaim that intimacy we shared in Paris. I miss seeing you skate down the halls in your stockings when you believed you were alone. I miss seeing you go fix a cup of tea in the mornings, half asleep and still in your nightclothes."

I cocked a brow. "I seem to remember you bitching about how improper I was."

"Oh, you were but I found it endearing how little you cared for all that. Lately I find myself thinking fondly of those times and wanting them back."

As sweet as all of this was, I was confused. What was he getting at? Don't get me wrong, I was touched but…

"Erik, not to be rude, but, what's your point?"

"My point is that I enjoyed passing the days with you. I think that, on some level, I knew your heart but I didn't realize it until that night. I crave the knowledge of whether or not I can ever hope to have that back."

"Mm, well, people don't really live together unless they're in a committed relationship. Or roommates."

"That's not what I meant." He said, shaking his head. "I crave the knowledge that you return my feelings. I only had it for a short period but it was the most beautiful thing."

"Okay, you lost me. Return your feelings? What feelings?"

He started. "You don't know?"

"I'm kinda dense sometimes."

He continued on as if I'd never spoken. "I mean, I never came out and said it but I still thought you knew. And to think all this time you were oblivious! It explains a lot, really. I knew you were oblivious about a lot, but still."

"Erik…" I warned.

"Sorry." He said sheepishly. "It's just…I thought you were aware that I love you. Truly, I thought I said without saying it everyday. Although, now that I think about it, that doesn't make much sense."

That was enough to make my jaw drop to somewhere around my knees. He…loved me? I most certainly did _not_ know this. How was I supposed to? Suddenly every encounter we'd ever had was thrown into question. All those sweet things he'd do, how was I to know they weren't normal for his time period? I mean, it's not like I knew how Victorian men and women _really _interacted. Chivalry was dead here but it was still alive and well there. To be honest I chalked most of his behavior up to him being a proper gentleman and only a small portion to him being fond of me.

"Sorry, I think I may have something in my ear. Did you say you love me?"

"Of course. You are the only person to have ever treated me like everyone else. How could I not love you for that?"

"Ah. That's, uh, that's not love. That's being extremely grateful and almost a hero-worship."

"Despite what you seem to be thinking, I _am_ aware of the difference. In the beginning all that's all it was, gratitude. Over time it evolved into something more, something deeper. I found I didn't love you because of how you treated me but, rather, that I loved you because of_ you_. It very nearly kills me to be away from you for any extended amount of time. I want you by my side every moment of every day. I want to be able to say that you belong to me and that I belong to you. Is that so wrong of me?"

"No, Erik, it's not wrong at all. Everyone wants to feel like someone cares. Nobody wants to do it on their own, everyone wants to know they're not alone."

"Do…do you want that, Elizabeth? Do you want that with me?"

Ugh. I really wish he wasn't pushing this so much right now. It's not like I had a bloody clue what I wanted. Ten minutes ago I had no idea how he felt about me. What I wanted was time, time to think.

"I want that with someone, Erik. I'd hardly be human if I didn't. We're not programmed that way, we're not meant to be alone. Do I want that with you? I really don't know. I can see us being like that but I can also see us drifting apart. We could go either way."

I knew I hadn't given him what he wanted but I also know that I couldn't. Not and still be completely honest, anyway. I don't know if I could ever be at ease with having a relationship with him. Rather than continue to look at his disappointed face any longer I went back to staring out the window.

I don't know how long we sat in silence. It felt like hours but it could have been mere minutes. Arms timidly wrapped around me from behind and gathered me back against Erik's chest. It was rare that he was intimate with me and, even though I may not admit it, I enjoyed every minute of these times.

I relaxed into his embrace and let myself pretend there wasn't anything wrong with this. That traitorous little voice that spoke for my heart pointed out that if I tossed away my inhibitions I could enjoy this intimacy fare more often. It had a good point. A very, _very _good point.

"I'm sorry for pushing the issue so much."

"No need to apologize. It's completely understandable."

"I shouldn't have, though. You're upset and uncomfortable now."

"Not because of you. You're not making me uncomfortable and I'm upset with my inability to decide what I want."

That certainly peaked his interest. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said." I said, leaning against him a bit more. "I can't decide what I want. Part of me is making a fine argument for something while another part is making a damn good argument against it."

"Care to share?"

"I…erm, I don't want you to possibly get your hopes up."

"I promise to stay entirely neutral if you'll share your thoughts."

Neutral. Yeah. He couldn't be neutral in this if I paid him. Still…maybe he'd respect my opinion if he knew the full extent of it? Psh, who am I kidding? He's going to do everything in his power to sway me to his way of thinking.

"Oh, alright." I sighed. "Did you know that I was entirely ignorant of how much I cared for you until we went to the Moulin Rogue? How pathetic. It's true, my heart _does _want all of that with you. My mind, however, had three very good reasons for not wanting that. One, I believed until a few minutes ago that you were still hung up on Christine. Two, I was rather convinced that you would never return my affections because of the previous reason. And three, - this being the biggest - was the fact that you don't exist."

"Do I feel like I don't exist?" He murmured in my ear.

After a mental keyboard smash I had to take a moment to gather my thoughts back up. He had a ridiculous talent for scattering them everywhere.

"No." I said, my voice still a little shaky. "And you know what I meant. You're fictional, you shouldn't be standing here."

"And yet here I am."

I nodded. "And yet here you are."

"Oh, and, Elizabeth? That's a stupid reason." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

* * *

**Yeah, I put Nickelback lyrics in there. I'm so sorry guys. I don't know what made me do it. Please don't hate me. **


	6. Chapter 6

**I have no excuse for how long it's been. I'm sorry. There are a few things you need to know going into this:**

**1. I don't know jack about the French government so I made things up to suit my purposes.**

**2. I did a heck of a lot of research on bits of the US government (because I didn't pay attention in Government in high school)**

**3. I'm really freaking nervous about how you guys are going to react to this because here lies the beginning of the main plot point for the entire story**

**4. Please give it a chance guys? Kthnxbye**

* * *

I'd like to say that things never got awkward between Erik and I, but I'd be lying if I did that. Or, at least, as far as I was concerned things got a bit awkward after that day. He didn't seem to ever notice any difference in our relations but I certainly did. I had never intended for this to happen, but at the same time it was exactly what I'd been afraid of from the beginning.

I could be clingy with the people I loved and I was perfectly aware of this fact. Erik, however, was unaware of it and apparently was very much the same when he let himself relax completely. And he let himself relax completely rather frequently now. I wouldn't mind normally but he didn't just limit his clinginess to when we were hanging out, it seemed like he was calling me every five minutes just to say hello. My patience is rather notoriously short and I was proud of myself for not snapping and throwing him into the Walbash River. Well, for awhile at least.

Over a month had passed in which I managed to _not_ kill him despite how much I really wanted to. The thing that really got annoying was the fact that, even though I had given him my class schedule and explained the time difference between Illinois (where I was going to school) and Indiana on three separate occasions, he would still call me while I was in class. It was beyond aggravating to have my phone vibrating in my pocket while I was trying to take notes. At least he only called once per class before either remembering that I couldn't answer or simply giving up.

Well, I should say that every day except today he only called once per class. Seeing as Erik called from my father's phone I was never entirely sure if it was him calling or my idiot father until I saw if there was a voicemail or not. Today, however, was quite unlike any other day when it came to Erik and his behavior. I was already annoyed enough at driving all the way over here only to find out that one of my two classes that day had been canceled and I had a good two hours to waste before my second class, Physics, was to start. If it wasn't for the fact that I had a test today (which, no doubt, everyone in the class was going to fail) I would have just gone home.

I should have known something was up when Erik didn't call during what should have been my Biology class but I was too engrossed in surfing my Tumblr dash to notice his odd behavior. Thankfully with the help of the internet the two hours passed swiftly and I made my way downstairs to the tiny room my class was in. As if my day wasn't off to a bad enough start, when I walked into the room I found Junior, the school's eight to ten foot long albino python, curled up on my desk sound asleep. _Oh, for crying out loud!_

I hate snakes and have frequently run away from Junior even though I know that he's quite gentle. He'd been raised in the school and, unfortunately, the science teachers enjoyed bring him to class randomly. The room my class was in happened to be located right behind his (for lack of a better word) home and the lizards who were right next to him. This meant that whenever they fed him or, like now, cleaned out his home they were doing so in my classroom. At least the damn snake was usually asleep no matter where he happened to be.

With a shudder I edged my way around the room and chose a new seat as far from the snake as possible. Gratefully the tech was, apparently, done cleaning Junior's home because she climbed out a moment later and coaxed the half-asleep snake to make his way back to where he needed to go. Class started about five minutes later with a little bit of lecture before our test. It was in the middle of this lecture that my phone began going off repeatedly. About the forth time it went off I slipped out of class quietly to answer it. Surely it must be an emergency for someone to call me that many times while I was in class!

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth, good you answered this time!" Came the chipper response.

"Erik," I said warningly. "this had better be an emergency."

"Do you remember where your father keeps the can opener? I can't find it."

I pinched the bridge of my nose with the hand not holding my phone, attempting to _not_ blow up on him. It wasn't working. Only after I had stepped outside and away from people did I allow myself to answer his stupid question.

"Erik, how many times have I told you not to call me while I'm in class?!" I screeched. "You're only to call if it's an emergency!"

"But I want some soup and can't get the can open. I thought maybe you would remember where it was. I've looked everywhere and-"

"Erik bloody Dessler, I am going to murder you when I see you! I am in the middle of class and about to take a test while you're prattling on about a stupid _can opener_. Go find it yourself! You're resourceful, you'll manage. I am sick and tired of you calling me when you _know _I'm in class. So help me god, if you call me one more time and the house isn't on fire I will use your own punjab on you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." He said meekly as I hung up.

Ever the one to keep his word, the only time we spoke was when I called him. After that day Erik didn't call me for a very long time.

-E-

Two weeks at a very horrible job and then nearly a month on top of that found me a few days before Thanksgiving. I hadn't been idle this whole time, though. Of course there had been classes and such but what I meant was that I hadn't been idle in reference to Erik. I wasn't ignorant of the fact that he had no purpose here or any way of doing anything to support himself. As far as the government was concerned, he was an illegal alien and should be deported as soon as he was discovered. But, France would feel much the same way. He _was_ French but there was no way of proving it. Desperate times called for desperate measures; the internet and I had some documents to trick a government into issuing.

I'd done a good deal of research when trying to decide where he would have "been born" in relation to the story I was going to have to make up for him. Finally, after much searching, I found a little town in France that had a tragic fire around the time Erik would have been born. Any and all records of his supposed birth would have been burnt up during the fire along with the records of several other people.

All I had to do was send a nicely worded email across the pond, posing as Erik, and ask about what to do for his birth certificate. Were either of my parents still living? No, sadly my father died before my birth and my mother died when I was a child. Were there any witnesses to my birth? As far as I was aware, no. Why had I never attempted to get my birth certificate re-issued? There was never a reason before moving to America. I was able to enter the country but can't stay. Stupid Americans never checking their facts the first time around.

Three weeks later I had a packet of nice documents courtesy of the French government. The thing I had been most worried about was getting him a Visa so he could legally stay here. In my reading up on them, I stumbled across something that cleared up the whole issue. The government had a smart moment, for once, and set up an agreement with several other countries allowing legal citizen of those countries to legally enter the US without an annoying Visa.

Of course, that didn't solve the issue of him still hiding out in my father's attic. He couldn't stay there forever but, at the same time, where else was there for him to go? I still lived at home with my mother and he had no source of income to get a place of his own. The only option was for him to do just that, but how? He didn't even have a GED so he wouldn't be able to get a job really anywhere in the country. He was a talented architect but to do that he'd have to have a college degree. What else could he do? Sadly, there was only one other thing I knew of that he was talented at and that was music.

Thanksgiving day, Erik met me at the public library like we'd planned earlier in the week. I thought it couldn't hurt anything to invite him to my father's side's family meal but I couldn't exactly pick him up from my father's house. We'd arranged to meet hours before we had to be at my grandparents' house to avoid him being caught sneaking away. He was sitting in a dark corner of the library basement, waiting somewhat patiently for me to arrive.

"Hey, you get away alright?"

"Yes." He sighed, glancing up at me from the kid's chair he was sitting on.

I settled down across the tiny table and noticed that, sadly, I really wasn't too big for the chair. Being short is rather depressing at times, but at least I had him to be amused by. He looked like an idiot cramming himself into the tiny seat. I tossed the folder of his new paperwork on the table and slid it over to him.

"Congrats, you're officially French. And since the US seems to think France is way cool, you don't have to get a Visa to be here. You've no idea how much of a bitch it would be to get you a Visa."

"How did you get all this?" He asked, flipping through the folder.

I shrugged. "I've been trading emails with a sympathetic lady across the pond. Manged to create a backstory for you that's not too unbelievable and they bought it. Of course, she thought I was you the entire time. By the way, is that what you're planning to wear to the meal?"

He looked down at his black suit, clearly confused about what was wrong with it. I had to give the guy credit, he tried to make himself look what he thought was presentable. But a Victorian suit was just too much, he would look like a complete fool.

"Do you still have all that spare change you've been swiping and stashing?"

"Yes, it's in a bag hidden out in your father's barn. Why?"

I smiled and dragged him out to my car. There was an old factory at the end of my father's street and I waited there while he snuck down the alley and got his money out of the barn. Erik was resourceful, he'd been swiping spare change since the moment he entered the house and hiding it away for reasons known only to him. I'm certain a shopping trip wasn't why he was keeping it all but we didn't have a choice. He needed something to wear.

After changing it in at the bank, I walked out with a wad of twenties in my hand. My father was notorious for not using change at all and just throwing it down in the house when he got home. Frankly I was more shocked that Erik hadn't saved up more than he had, but it was more than enough to do what we needed to do. At least with what he'd managed to save, I could indulge his more pompous side by getting him some high(er) quality clothes.

To Macy's we went, having plenty of time until we needed to be at the meal. Going "into town" as I called it was practically an all day trip, seeing as it was an hour drive one way. Of course, that meant the drive gave us a good deal of awkward time in which I wondered how to bring up my idea to keep him here.

"You've yet to tell me what sort of backstory you came up with."

"There's not much to tell, really. I used what I already knew about your actual history for the most part. Your father died before you were born, your mother was Madeleine Dessler and she conveniently died when you were a child so there wasn't anyone around to come forward as a witness to your birth. I thought I read somewhere that you were born in May, so I listed your date of birth as the 22nd. You'd said around Christmas that you were twenty-four and since you haven't truly lived through a May since then, I say you're still twenty-four. Congrats, you're a child of the eighties! It would have been incredibly ironic if you were supposedly born a hundred years after we met but, alas, you were born five years later than that."

When he didn't say anything, I snuck a quick glance over at him. He was still clutching the car seat for dear life (something I don't think he'll ever stop doing) but other than that he appeared to take his new history about as well as to be expected. So far so good.

"Anything else?"

"Ummm...you were born at home in Strife, France which had a terrible fire not long after you were born. The birth and death records of many people there were lost so it wasn't hard to get the French government to think yours was one of them. Other than that, make it up as you go I guess. Just keep in mind most of what you've done during your travels isn't possible anymore or isn't believable. Persia, for example, doesn't exist anymore or at least not how you knew it. It's called Iran now and I wouldn't mention going there. The way I understand it, Iran's kind of...nuts. In fact, don't mention going to a good portion of the middle east. The US doesn't play nicely with those countries."

"Why not?"

"We can threaten people with nuclear weapons but no one else is allowed to threaten us with their own nukes. Because we're a bunch of elitist hypocrites apparently. You can guess how it is. They piss us off, we piss them off, they start a war with us, we start a war with them, war spills over into the next country, they get pissed all over again, we try to tell them how to run their lives. Very not nice."

Erik made a non-committal sound and the conversation ended there. How was I going to bring up the thing that really needed addressed and my idea for dealing with it? Of course, if I was wrong about something then my whole suggestion would go to pot and a new idea would be needed. But I wouldn't know that unless I just opened my mouth already. Truthfully, I was terrified that he would take it all the wrong way. Terrified that he wouldn't because then we'd have to figure this out with neither of us having any knowledge of how to go about it.

The rest of the way into town and while we were shopping felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff with no way of going back. Things couldn't continue as they were but god if I wasn't terrified of taking that leap. For weeks, ever since the idea had occurred to me, my stomach had been full of butterflies at the prospect but they had turned into something a bit more painful recently. Anyone who's ever ignored those butterflies knows exactly what I mean.

Shopping with Erik was a bit easier than I thought it would be, but it was just as stressful as I'd feared. He didn't have a terrible fashion sense and he understood that he had to change it a little bit to fit in with society now. People stared, of course, which both of us had expected. Erik tried to ignore it and move on with what he was doing but it was obvious how much it bothered him. I would have been worried if it didn't, truthfully.

I did my best to do the same as him and ignore the staring people. Thankfully most people lost interest in us fairly quickly and moved on to the next thing they just _had_ to have. Honestly I didn't have much time to keep an eye on people around us, I was too busy trying to convince Erik that a three-piece suit was definitely overdressed. Only in Macy's would such a thing be next to the jeans.

Eventually I convinced him into wearing something that was dresser than what anyone else would be wearing, but still not all that overdressed. To be honest it took longer to get him to understand that no one would think he was half dressed than it did for him to pick out a pair of dark jeans and a nice dress shirt.

The easiest thing of the day now accomplished, I couldn't help but think ahead to the other things I had to deal with. Dealing with my father's cold ignorance during Thanksgiving wouldn't be nearly as hard as dealing with the cause of those kamikaze butterflies. Stupid butterflies.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay you guys ought to know that up until now I've had so much of the story pre-planned that it's been no fun to write, which is why updates were getting slower and slower. That being said this is the last chapter in that pre-planned part. Since it took me so long to get out, you get a really long chapter. I tried to break it up but there was no good point around the middle to do so. In other words you guys get a 13 page chapter instead of the usual 5-7 page chapter. Whoops.**

* * *

It would be best, I had decided, to tell him before we arrived what my half-baked idea was. If nothing else it would kill off those stupid butterflies that refused to leave me alone. Of course, I still had no idea how to tell him aside from the obvious "use words" thing. I suppose I might as well just go for it.

"Erik? How are you, umm, how are you planning to support yourself here? I mean, you can't live in my father's attic all the time. Not that I mind, it's just-"

"I can't stay where I am forever. Yes, I'm well aware of this Elizabeth. The problem is that I don't understand how one gets money in this world. Your father brings home a piece of paper and then later it's gone and there's an envelope of money instead. What is that piece of paper and where is the money coming from?"

"It's a paycheck, you had checks back then. You get a paycheck from your job and then you take it to the bank and either deposit it into your account or, like dumbass-I mean, my father, you cash it and don't keep track of it."

He made a noncommittal sound and the conversation lulled a bit. Yeah, getting money wasn't nearly as easy here as it was there Erik. Well, I mean, he _could_ get it the same way it would just be more difficult to get away with. That being said, maybe since he was already trying to find a way to earn some cash he'd be more open to my idea. Of course there was always the chance that he wouldn't react well to it.

"You know, I actually had an idea about how you could support yourself. I just, ah, don't know how you'll react to it."

"Well?"

"I was thinking...in every version of the story you're a really _really_ good singer. Does that happen to be true?"

I didn't even have to look at him to know he had a smug grin on his face.

"I've been told that several times, yes. However I fail to see where you're going with this. You said that there aren't really theater productions here like there were there."

"True, but haven't you noticed the radio? Those people who sing on there, or attempt to sing in some cases, actually make a living doing that. It's a fact that most singers don't have any real training with their voice, but you do. I've never heard you sing but I'm going to hazard a guess that you're bloody brilliant by today's standards. And if you became a singer, you could do it all yourself which very few current artists can claim. If the rest of what I've read holds true, you're a talented songwriter as well and I already know that you're a brilliant musician."

"Hmm."

Very useful response, Erik. After that _brilliant_ bit of the English language as given by our very own Shakespeare the conversation died off. If I were being completely honest I would say that I was rather thankful that it did. Had he asked how exactly I thought he should go about this endeavor all I would have had to offer him was a blank stare.

I wasn't worried about if he would make it as a modern musician, even without hearing him sing I had a good deal of faith in him. What I was worried about was how he'd go about it. He really only had two options, try to get signed on his own or go on something like _Idol_ to try and win a record deal. It goes without saying that I don't have what he'd need to record on his own nor did I have any way of getting it. As far as something like _Idol_ goes, lord only knows how he'd handle being on put on display like that.

Either way, though, he would end up out of his comfort zone by about a mile. I couldn't shield him from being thrown to the dogs and being judged by everyone for everything. There was absolutely no way I could ever protect him from that, no matter how much I wanted to.

-E-

To say that I didn't worry when Erik didn't say anything more on the drive back to my grandparents' house would be a lie. I worried, a lot actually. But I put it out of my mind in favor of more pressing things to worry about. Like how my family as going to react to him, for example. I hadn't exactly told anyone that I was bringing someone to dinner with me so they couldn't even prepare themselves. My biggest worry (or should I say fear?) was how my father would react to and treat him. He wasn't known for being open to...well...anything, really.

Uncle Jack opened the always-locked front door for us and tossed a hello over his shoulder, not really paying attention to the fact that I wasn't alone. Now, I love my Uncle Jack very much and he's a really nice guy but he can be so damn oblivious sometimes. He'd been like that for as long as I'd known him but it wasn't anything I ever paid attention to until I was older. For years he was just my new Uncle Jack and a fun playmate, that's just how I saw it.

With a roll of my eyes I shuffled Erik into a small room just off the living room to throw our coats and shoes. My grandparents' house wasn't small but it wasn't big either, it was somewhere in between. I had a good deal of memories in this house but a lot of them were hazy, like I was looking at them through a dirty window. Truthfully that was true for a good deal of my memories of my childhood; for being so young the amount I could remember about being a kid was pathetically small.

"Alright, Erik, I need you to do me a favor. Remember to watch what you say and try to avoid anything you think may be questionable. But try to be nice, don't throw up the old facade. Be yourself as much as you can."

"And what is my prize for being a good boy, then, hmm?"

I froze, shoes half off. Was...was he _flirting_ with me? Judging by the smirk on his face as he leaned past me to add his coat to the pile in an old chair, yes he was. It threw me entirely off. How did one handle a flirting Phantom? I...uh...

"W-Well, that, ah, that depends on what you want as a prize." I said, trying very hard to play along with him.

"I would like a kiss on the cheek." He whispered in my ear.

_Oh._ My shoe slipped from my hand to drop with a dull thunk on the floor. _Oh my._ This wasn't just some off the wall request for him, it was one he'd made before when he was a child and it had been cruelly denied. It was painfully obvious that he was afraid of it being denied again. As if I could ever do something so cruel to anyone; it wasn't something I was capable of let alone even _want_ to do to someone. I hazarded a glance out the door before turning to face him.

"Erik, chere, I thought you knew that you didn't have to ask for something like that." I said, pressing a quick kiss to his unmasked cheek. "For the time being, though, as long as my family is around you had better not take one. Any other time you can have one anytime you like."

"Is the reason I may not when your family's around because you're ashamed of me?"

"No, never! You stupid man. Think about it from their perspective. Here's a guy with me whom I've never mentioned before and, oh good god, now they're kissing."

He looked like he was on the verge of saying something else but we had already been in here for too long. We really needed to join everyone else before Uncle Jack realized I still hadn't showed up when he let me in nearly ten minutes ago. I emerged from the room, grateful that the living room was empty and there wasn't a chance we'd been overheard.

My grandmother was busy bustling around the kitchen, making it look like she was working so hard when really she had a good fifteen minutes before she even had to do anything. Nearly everyone was standing in the tiny room with her, mostly because it was the warmest room in the house and everywhere else was freezing.

My two youngest cousins, Matthew and Dawn, were watching Spongebob behind me with their older brother Timothy sat at the table playing some video game on his little hand-held game system. Aunt Anne and Uncle Jack were talking over by the bathroom with my father while my PaPaw could be heard messing with things in the fridge on the back porch. Typical family gathering on the whole.

"Hi Grandma, anything I can do to help?"

"Oh, hello Elizabeth. I think I'm okay right now, but thanks."

I knew her answer before I even offered but, maybe, if I was nice she wouldn't freak out so much when I told her I had a guest. Oh, who am I kidding she's going to freak anyway. And I would have offered to help either way.

"Um, Grandma? Ibroughtsomeonewithmehe'sintheotherroom." Just get it out in a rush, that'll totally make it better. Because she doesn't get annoyed when I do that or anything.

The entire room got quiet as they all turned to stare at me in varying degrees of horror. My grandma didn't say anything for what seemed like hours and with each passing second I shrank farther and farther into myself. Oh man this was going to be worse than I thought.

"And why didn't you tell me earlier this week?" She asked, fixing me with the famous you-fucked-up-big-time glare.

"Last minute plans." I squeaked. "Grandma, don't get mad! He just moved here and didn't have anywhere to go for the holidays. I was trying to be nice."

She pursed her lips and I knew that, though she may not say anything else tonight, I was going to get it big time in the future. As terrible as this is going to sound, I wanted to make sure Erik stayed near me all night because as long as he was around she wouldn't blow up on me. She wanted our family to appear perfect far too much for her to do something like that.

I backed out of the room slowly as my grandmother went back to fussing over the stove and retreated to the living room where Erik was still standing. He was, understandably, nervous about this entire situation. What he needed was a good dose of "just jump in and hope for the best" which was, at the moment, what I was currently running on.

He gave me a half-smile but it was obviously a forced one. I knew better than to try and pretend that he hadn't heard that entire conversation. Unfortunately he'd hear anything said the entire night, what with everything being in the TV room and kitchen, which were attached to each other. I could only hope that no one said anything too terrible about his, er, _situation_.

With what I hoped was a reassuring smile, I laced my fingers in with his and nodded my head back towards where I'd come from. Might as well introduce him now and get that over with. I doubted it would do anything to help ease the tension in the house but a person could be optimistic. I wasn't that person, I was just stating that it was possible.

"Guys?" I called, attempting to get everyone in the kitchen's attention. "This is Erik. Erik, this is everyone."

I had to forcibly yank him into the kitchen doorway beside me so that they could even see who I was talking about. Yes, I realize he hated being around people in general but holy crap. Work with me here, would you? Thankfully no one said anything I would have to kill them over, although in the case of my father it was only because I shot him a dark look. I knew how intolerant of anyone who wasn't just like him he could be.

In fact, no one said anything; not even so much as a hello. We stood there for a minute or two before I awkwardly backed out and joined my youngest cousins in the other room around the TV. Erik was right on my heels, not wanting to be in a room of complete strangers when someone he was comfortable with was in the next room.

"Liz! Liz! Liz!" Little Matt shouted when he noticed my presence. "Liz, you here!"

A bright smile found its way onto my face as the five year old jumped up and rushed the four feet to me. He could be an absolute heathen at times (and by that I meant most of the time) but I loved the kid.

"Hullo, Matt." I said, helping him climb up on my lap. "This a good episode of Spongebob?"

"Uh-huh."

He quickly settled back against me and went back to watching his show. It reminded me of a time, when he was just a baby, that I'd held him the same way and he fell asleep. I couldn't move for a couple of hours, not wanting to wake him. Why that memory should come to mind now was a mystery to me but I didn't really mind. Sometimes random memories were nice, provided the memory itself wasn't a bad one.

The bad thing about having Matt sit on my lap was that I was a fidgeter and couldn't move with him there. I had to settle with moving just a little bit at a time. Unless, of course, there was always a monster that could come and get him during commercials. Hmm, yes, I liked that idea.

"You know, Matt, I heard there was a monster here."

Erik froze beside me, making me realize that my wording could have been much better. Ah well, too late now.

"A monster?" Matt asked with wide eyes.

"Mm-hm, a monster. Its got big fuzzy feet and feathers on its hands. Do you know what kind of monster it is?"

He shook his head violently, completely enraptured with what I was saying. Erik, I'm sure, had no idea where I was going with any of this. And that was perfectly fine.

"It's a tickle monster!" I declared, wiggling my fingers up and down his sides.

Matt shrieked with laughter, curling in on himself but not really trying to get away from me. I laughed along with him, having just as much fun as he was. Tickling children was always amusing and a fun way to pass a little bit of time, assuming you knew when to stop. Been over-tickled was never any fun.

It hadn't really dawned on me that Matt hadn't noticed Erik until he fell over into his lap. Dawn, who had been sitting across the room and steadfastly ignoring Matt and I, looked up at her brother's shocked outburst at finding himself in a stranger's lap.

Matt scrambled up and away from Erik, staring at him in the way a child does when encounters a new person they don't know how to react to. I instantly wrapped my arms around him in an attempt to calm him down. Dawn was staring at Erik, too, though she was at the age where I couldn't begin to guess at what was going through her head. Matt was my main concern, seeing as he was now on the verge of tears.

"It's okay, Matt, shhhh. Calm down, hun. This is just Erik." I said, rubbing his back gently. "Don't worry, he's nice. He's not gonna hurt you, sweetie."

"What'd you do to my brother?" Dawn demanded of Erik.

"Nothing, mademoiselle." He said, holding up his hands in a sign of innocence. "He was merely startled by my presence. I don't believe he realized I was here."

"You scared my little brother?"

"He didn't mean to, Dawn. Matt's fine now, aren't you hun?"

Matt nodded but kept his eyes trained on Erik. I'm sure he was aware, but I was trying to keep Erik from realizing that Matt was frightened of him. That was the problem with the way he and nearly every other child in the world had been raised. Fear anything that isn't "normal" because it must be bad. The world is total shit because of this kind of thinking. But, I digress. My feelings on politics and the raising of children is irrelevant at the moment.

"Say hello," I whispered to Erik. "be nice."

"Hello, Matt."

Erik offered him a soft smile, attempting to be nice and convince Matt he wasn't going to hurt him. I wish I could say that it worked, but that would be a lie. However the awkward situation was escaped by my Aunt Anne sticking her head into the room to announce dinner. Matt and Dawn ran off, eager to eat while I held Erik back for a minute.

"Don't say anything about the food, okay? My grandmother tries but she...ah...she's not the best cook in the world."

He quirked a brow at me but didn't comment. He'd see what I meant when he started eating. That is, assuming the man even ate which I had a feeling he really wouldn't. Maybe he would, though, seeing as it would be rude if he didn't.

The kitchen, which was small to begin with, felt even more cramped with everyone trying to grab food and sit at the table in the center of the room. I grabbed a stool from the corner of the room and plopped it down at the table, adding the extra seat needed. Erik wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing and just hung back watching the commotion. It was only after I hopped in line to get food that he did the same.

He attempted to be the gentleman and give me the remaining seat at the table but I politely and silently refused. I already felt short enough around him, I didn't need him sitting six inches higher than me on a stool. With a sigh he let me take the stool and settled himself next to me. For once in my life, and probably the only time, I was the same height as him. To say it didn't feel nice would be a terrible, terrible lie.

As always, my father sat across from me with my Aunt on my left and my Uncle on my right. Matt, Dawn, Tim, and my grandparents had always sat at another table squeezed against the back wall. This was the part where things could end terribly, when there wasn't anything to do other than eat and talk to my family.

"So, Erik, where're you from?" Aunt Anne asked, trying to be sociable.

"France originally, but I've lived all over Europe."

"Really?" Uncle Jack chimed in. "Parents travel a good deal?"

"No, I did." He said simply, taking a sip of his water. "I traveled a good deal in my youth."

"Your youth? You talk like you're in your sixties! Come on, don't make me feel older than I am."

I kicked him under the table and gave him a sidelong look. Apparently he forgot that he's supposed to be watching what he says. Ever the master of a poker face, he didn't show any sign of just having received a swift and none-to-gentle kick in the shin. If anything, he smirked just a tiny bit.

"Au contraire, I will call it my youth for that's what it was. I started traveling around on my own before I was ten."

That earned him an even harder kick. _Idiot. _How many times did I tell him to watch what he said?! Honestly.

"Okay, mask boy," My father chimed in. "I dunno what crap you've fed my Lizzy but it's gonna stop right he-"

"Wow, rude much. I thought Grandma taught you to be respectful to guests." I said. "See, Erik, this is why I was leery of bringing you here. Doug doesn't know how to be civil or when to keep his fat mouth shut. And for the record, I'm not your Lizzy, I'm your daughter."

"Don't call me Doug, I am your dad."

"No, you're my _father_. There's a difference and I recommend you don't forget it."

Aunt Anne cleared her throat and delicately steered the conversation to safer topics. Erik did his best to contribute to whatever was being spoken off and, for the most part, he did fine. There were only a few times I had to stealthily come to his rescue when he didn't understand what was being said or couldn't figure out what the appropriate response would be.

For the most part, I found myself regretting everything about today. Well, nearly everything. I shouldn't have ever brought Erik here. This was one of my worst ideas in a long time. He was, though, coping remarkably well with the unveiled dislike thrown at him by my father. The majority of my family was at least attempting to be civil, with my Aunt and Uncle putting forth the most effort.

How many times had I told him things were different here? That people were more accepting of others that weren't cookie-cutter here than they were there? Over and over I had assured him that he needn't hide himself as much now. So much for all that, he was treated differently from almost the moment he walked through that door.

I knew he didn't blame me, didn't think I had lied to him. I could see it in his face when I told him it was different here that he didn't believe me. Why would he? Never has he been treated as a normal person before. Or, rather, very very rarely is he treated like any another other person. So I knew that, for the most part, he wasn't disappointed to find my assurances empty. No matter how much he tried to hide it, I could tell he was a little...upset? Let down? Unhappy?

Erik was good at hiding things, it was a skill he'd had to develop rather quickly when he was a child. It served him very well for the most part. The only time it really failed him was around those few people he let close. In other words, right here and now, I was the only one who could see through his well-crafted facade. I'm sure he didn't even realize just how much of an open book he could be to me at times. Secretly, I enjoyed it. But still, the fact that I had essentially lied to him and built up a small hope within him only to have it crushed was something I couldn't escape.

"Je suis desole, Erik." I said quietly.

From the corner of my eye I saw him give me a strange look. I could only assume that he didn't follow why I was apologizing. That or my accent was truly terrible, but I seriously hoped it was the former. As idly as I could, like I was bored, I started drawing circles on the table with the butt end of my fork. Erik was subtly watching – the only one to have even noticed what I was doing – in an attempt to figure out what I was doing.

A few more circles and some arrows pointing around the room hopefully got my point across. I was sorry for bringing him here. I was sorry for putting him through this. I was sorry for making him deal with these people, most of whom were barely being civil to him. Most importantly, and emphasized with several arrows, I was sorry for subjecting him to my father. I had worried about his words and actions the entire time but I'd thought he would act a little better than this. I should have known better, really.

Comprehension dawned on his face briefly before he smoothed it over and hid it away. Not like anyone else at the table was really paying attention to either of us.

"Ne soyez pas." He replied just as quietly.

And like that, the entire subject was closed as far as he was concerned. I knew that I wouldn't move on nearly as quickly, myself. As silly as it was to dwell on something that apparently didn't bother him overly much I couldn't help it. I would be regretting this for a while, even if it was never mentioned again.

-E-

"That friend of yours, he's...different." Aunt Anne said as we stood together in the kitchen, ready to assist in cleaning up if needed.

Truthfully we both knew that my grandmother would never want our help and, frankly, I had been baffled as to why she instantly cleaned the kitchen after eating every Christmas and Thanksgiving. It had been this way for eighteen years and, judging by my Aunt's lack of interest in what was going on, it had been that way for as long as anyone could remember.

Uncle Jack had dragged a semi-reluctant Erik into the other room with everyone else and was attempting to engage him in conversation. For the most part it seemed to be working but, not being able to hear what was being said, I had no idea if looks were deceiving.

"What's so different about him?"

I followed her gaze out into the other room, trying to see what she saw when she looked at Erik. Perhaps I had been around him for too long, because other than his mask I saw nothing to warrant her pointing out that he was different. If anything he was much more polite and courteous than nearly anyone either Aunt Anne or I had ever come into contact with. While technically different, that was hardly anything to cause that odd tone she'd used.

"Well, dear, he has a mask to begin with."

"So do I, three or four actually. They're at home." I quipped.

To say I was startled by how quickly that had come to mind would be an understatement. I never thought of witty comebacks until hours after the conversation was over. Huh. I was proud of myself over that one. Aunt Anne, however, wasn't impressed in the slightest.

"Be serious, Elizabeth."

"I am, dear Aunt. I've never been more serious in my life than right now."

"Your friend _is not normal_. Doesn't that bother you?"

Another glance was spared to Erik, who was hearing every bit of this despite being in the other room, before I turned to face Aunt Anne fully. I don't think she understood that I really was being serious.

"No, it doesn't. Why would it? In case you hadn't noticed, I don't exactly fall under the category of normal either. Frankly, normal is boring. I tied being normal for years and all that did was depress me."

"Liz, there's being a little quirky and then there's...well..."

"Watch your words, Aunt Anne. You're getting dangerously close to offending me, let alone him."

She let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. I had no doubt that she thought I was being immature about this whole thing and not thinking anything through. To her I was still a little girl who had no experience in the real world and therefore couldn't be trusted to make the right choice. She was mildly right about one thing, I had virtually no experience in the real world. But I wasn't five years old anymore and I knew exactly what I was doing in this exact moment.

"Look, Elizabeth, I know you're not a little girl anymore but just listen to me for once. Stay away from him. There's something not right about that friend of yours and I don't want you getting dragged into anything just because you know him. You're my only niece, I just want you to be safe."

"Aunt Anne, I appreciate that you're trying to protect me from the world. Lord knows you're the only one on this side of the family that ever has. You want me to listen to you and I am, but that goes two ways. You need to listen to _me_ once in a while. I know Erik better than you seem to think and I trust him. He's not going to murder me in my sleep or force me to rob a bank with him.

"Be honest with yourself, the only reason you're acting this way is because he looks different from what you consider normal. What if he looked just like you or me? You'd be talking with him easily and not standing here have a pointless conversation with me. Stop thinking what you were trained to think by society and think for yourself for a moment. What about him, really, is so different?

"He's much more polite than nearly every person I've ever met and that's not a bad thing at all. Chivalry isn't dead with him and aren't we women constantly saying how it'd be nice for a guy to open a door for us once in a while? Look, right there in the next room, there's a guy who'll do it because he wants to and you're shooting him down before he even has the chance to show you how kind he can be. I know there's no way you could know any of that but, had you not judged him from the get-go, you would've figured out a lot of it just by talking to him."

I left her sputtering in the kitchen and went to perch on the big wooden arm of the couch next to Erik, silently slipping into his conversation. He didn't do anything to outwardly acknowledge my presence but from my vantage point I could see the tension in him ease just a bit. What had he thought of my little speech? Did he believe me? Or did him simply think I was being kind? With him, anything was possible.

We didn't stay long after that. The official excuse was that it was starting to get dark and I had to take Erik home. The real reason was that I was getting sick of dealing with my family and just wanted to spend a little time with my...boyfriend? Another thing to figure out about us, I suppose, what the hell I was to call him. That was rather far down the list though.

After a brief moment of decision, I ended up just driving a couple of blocks away to the public park no one ever used. It wasn't warm or particularly private but it would have to do. Not like we could just go back to my father's house, it being pretty much across the road from my grandparents' house. Erik climbed out of the car the instant it was stopped and took off into the small park. Honestly, what was the point of this?

"Erik, get back here." I called, climbing out after turning off the car.

His only response was to sit on one of the swings and look at me. Gee, thanks for the cooperation. I sighed and made my way through the darkening park to sit next to him.

"What was the point of running off?"

"What was the point of coming here?" He shot back.

"Touche." I muttered. "Am I not allowed to spend some time with you away from my family? It _is_ a holiday, you know. Supposed to spend them with the people you love or some such bullshit. To be perfectly honest I'm content to spend them alone for the most part. Better to spend time with my cats in my pajamas than to spend it putting up with people I wouldn't socialize with if they weren't family."

"And what about myself?" He asked the ground between his feet. "Where do I fall in that?"

"You're probably the only person I actually enjoy spending time with. As a rule I hate being around people because all they do is judge everything. I don't like having myself torn down all the time simply because I'm a little different than them. You're not the only person who gets it, Erik. In today's society people are torn down and their self esteem shattered just because their hair isn't the right color. Why would I ever want to go around people like that? No, I'd much rather sit at home where I'm safe from the jabs of the vox populi. You of all people understand this and I really appreciate the fact that you just roll with the punches."

I may or may not have gone a bit off subject but I couldn't find it in myself to care. He wanted to know and I told him. Just with perhaps too much detail and elaboration. Still, I thought he would understand what I was trying to say even if I was a bit confused by the end.

He said nothing, gently pushing himself back and forth with one foot. It was getting dark enough that I couldn't tell if he was lost in thought or simply didn't know what to say next. I just left him be, not knowing where this whole thing was going or what to say next myself. Sometimes I wondered why I even hung out with Erik, most of the time we just sat in silence.

"You don't tell your family that you love them." He said eventually.

"For the most part, no, I don't. Nor do they tell me they love me. Most of them I love only because they're family. If you told me I wasn't actually related to most of my family I'd happily shove them off a cliff. The only one I ever tell that I love them is my mom and, in turn, she's the only one who tells me."

"Can you...explain what you mean by you love them only because they're family?"

I started, not expecting that. I thought that was something universally understood but, then again, Erik's only family had been his mother and she certainly hadn't ever shown any love towards him. Of course he wouldn't understand what I meant.

"Well, they're family and I was raised that you're supposed to love them no matter how much you actually hate them. That's just how people are raised to think anymore. Blood is thicker than water and all that. If I'm honest, I really do hate most of them. They're like the Dursley's but I'm not forced to sleep under the stairs." Even though I couldn't really see it, I knew he was giving me a confused look. "Right. Harry Potter. Wrong time frame. Sorry. Let's try that again, yes? They're horrible. Some are just terrible family members while others are terrible people in general."

"And yet you still go around them?"

I sighed. "It's complicated, Erik. Even though things have changed in the years between you and I, the fact of the matter is that I'm still just a young girl without any money or any means of supporting herself. And let's say for the sake of arguing that I _did_ try to cut them out of my life and stopped putting up with them. They'd turn me in as a missing person so fast it's not even funny and all because they supposedly love me. After I was found, probably relaxing in New England and happy as can be, they'd force me to come back because apparently you can't just up and leave your family."

Where was he going with asking all these questions, anyway? Surely he couldn't be this curious about something as mundane as family tiffs.

"One more question, Eli-"

"Erik, if it's about my shitty relationship with my family please don't ask it. I don't want to talk about them anymore or at all, really. Can't we just have a nice conversation between ourselves before I absolutely have to take you back to my father's house?"

Silently he reached over to hold my hand in his and I smiled in the dark. Which one of us started swinging first I don't know but there we were, sitting in a darkened park holding hands and swinging like children. In that moment nothing else mattered at all. It didn't matter that I should really be driving home right now. It didn't matter that the guy who held my heart was fictional. It didn't matter that he was over a hundred years older than myself. It didn't matter that it was getting rather cold out or that it was supposed to rain tonight.

All that mattered was that for the first time in my life I was truly happy. At this very second in time there wasn't anything I would change. Well, I take that back, there was one thing I wanted to change. Not letting go of Erik's hand I stood up and reseated myself on his lap. The swing was absolutely tiny but, being meant for small children, it was low enough to the ground that his feet were planted firmly enough to support my weight. Not that I had really worried about that.

He froze for a moment before the hand that had been holding mine went to hold me more securely against him. If asked, he would have said that it was simply so I wouldn't fall but it was just as much, if not more, a sign of affection. He absolutely loved having me be close to him like this, even though he tried to hide it because in his mind it wasn't proper. I tucked my head under his chin, determined to get as comfortable as possible. Apparently I relaxed more than I realized or intended to. Things I hadn't set out to say were spilling from my mouth.

"I love you, Erik." I sighed.

And with that he began to cry.

* * *

**Ta-da?  
**

**Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out much faster but I promise nothing.**


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